


Comin' Under Fire

by SoHereWeAre



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aliases, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attraction, Casual Sex, Cunnilingus, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, Foreplay, French Kissing, Hair Dyeing, I Ship It, Making Out, NSFW Gif At The End, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Passion, Personality Swap, Power Dynamics, Public Display of Affection, Roleplay, Sexual Content, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-11 22:38:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17455619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoHereWeAre/pseuds/SoHereWeAre
Summary: Sansa grows bold after dyeing her hair and decides to give rumored Office Lothario Harry Hardyng a go.She can do it. After all, she's Alayne in a bar, not good and perfect Sansa Stark...I couldn't resist. I keep seeing Bradley James as Harry Hardyng and that man is one very sexy inspiration. And sansafeels shares the blame.Title is from "Comin' Under Fire" by Def Leppard. Kind of suits Harry in this so forgive the 80's cheese. :)





	Comin' Under Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sansafeels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansafeels/gifts).



_He switched to water, abandoning his nearly full glass of bourbon as soon as she smiled and sat down on the bar stool next to him_.

For some reason that thought was ingrained in her mind as Harry Hardyng's lips sought hers out in an oddly cautious kiss in the back seat of the taxi cab while his sexy, beautiful hands cupped her face to his. There was nothing of his body that wasn't sexy and even though she acknowledged it to herself long ago, she refused to vocalize any credence to her feelings into his bite-worthy ears. Sansa Stark would have told him to mind his manners and sit back in the seat and buckle up for safety, but this stranger inhabiting her skin liked the way his touch excited her from the top of her dyed-brown head all the way down to her cute sandals and toe-painted feet. As his fingers smoothed over her cheekbones she recalled how he caressed the glass of alcohol as if it were the most expensive and prized work of art in the world rather than some second-rate bar's cup that has been used by hundreds of people before him. Only his full-lipped smirk drew her eyes from the action and his smooth voice as he immediately complimented her hair and asked who she was under those chocolate-kissed tresses. 

_Call me Alayne_ , she had purred, emboldened from the new look her friend Jeyne convinced her to try. _Just for tonight_ , she had added, looking past him only for a moment, hoping he didn't draw the conclusion she just pulled the name straight from her favorite crime show on TV, a feisty little brunette detective who was tough as nails but ends up falling for the town's notorious bad boy. Oh, no, she wasn't falling for Harry Hardyng; she would never fall for this ambitious young executive, this philandering playboy who by all accounts couldn't keep it in his pants and dropped women like hot potatoes after he got what he wanted from them. No matter how much attention he gave her, no matter how many compliments he offered, Sansa Stark remained cold and resolute, putting him in his place every chance she could. 

But Alayne could enjoy him, just this once. _Just this once_.

Sansa Stark was tired of being the good girl, the smart and straight-laced one, the one who dated bland boyfriends and refused to put out until the one millionth date. Good girls don't uncross their legs in the back of a car while a stranger was driving to a hot guy's posh apartment and kept glancing in the rear view mirror with a shit-eating grin on his face. The music was turned down as Alayne grappled with her own seat belt, unbuckling it so she could move into him, pushing him back until his head bumped so hard on the door window that she heard it. For a moment she considered apologizing but he offered a sensual smile and deep chuckle before reaching for her, pulling her in by the flimsy spaghetti straps of her silky top. The passing street lights flickered a glow intermittently through his dirty blonde hair and highlighted his handsome face with his cutting blue eyes and pronounced cheekbones. 

She placed her trembling hands on his broad shoulders and tried to straddle him but the back seat was not meant for fooling around. Instead she settled for tugging up his dark t-shirt out of his buckled jeans so she could run her hands up his abs. Well, Harry - or, _Harrold_ , as she always politely called him at work much to his ire - could at least boast about his great body with his chiseled chest and biceps bulging out from his tight, short sleeves. And while she had him like this, she could treat him like a piece of meat, couldn't she? Give him a taste of how he treated his conquests? For a moment she felt empowered when she heard him gasp, but it was only fleeting when he sat up to push her back into her seat. Before she could protest his lips found hers again, only this time insistent and wet and the pleasant tingle turned into a fire. She always hated french-kissing; over-eager tongues sloppy and rolling around forcibly in her mouth, but his tongue seemed to take its time while his lips moved faster. Her own mouth quickened as those glorious set of hands reached up through her own top, slow in comparison. She shivered in delight as his hands warmed her rib cage and struggled not to gasp in surprise as the heat left her upper body and transferred down to the hem of her short skirt and halted.

To her disappointment Harry drew back, leaving her panting and swallowing and confused. His lips had a sheen of wetness and he was breathing heavy as he stared at her. She could see the rapid constricting in his neck as his hand reached into his back pocket. His arm strained, showing prominent veins, hard and as beautiful as he was. He frowned for a moment, flipping open his wallet and pulling out a one hundred dollar bill, leaning back over in between the two front seats, shoving it at the cabbie. Who had cash in their wallet anymore? Apparently, Harrold Hardying.

"Eyes on the road. Radio up." The driver took the money in agreement and Harry leaned in further, reaching up to flip the rear view mirror down. "Another hundred at our destination."

It was a nice view of his ass before he sank back into the seat and she wondered how many times he did this with other women. Not that it mattered. She was the woman now and maybe Sansa would have felt tawdry but no, Alayne wanted what he was offering as he scooted up against her, his lips diving into her neck and his hand shoving up under her skirt to seek out his prize in between willingly spread legs. She knew she was already wet and aching but those perfect fingertips smoothed up her thighs and deftly slid under her pink silk thong, swiping up through her folds and slightly back down to her clit, wasting no time rubbing, circling, as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. 

"Not the Ice Queen now, are we?" The smug bastard chuckled, his fingers teasingly fluttering into her nub."I knew once I had you alone-"

"It's amazing what alcohol can do. And we're not _alone_ , Harrold," she taunted, knowing he hated his full first name. She was always good with words and didn't need a hair change to best him, even if she was desperately turned on. It would stroke his ego if he knew she's been wet before in his presence, just by listening to his voice while she remained outwardly frozen to his wicked charms. 

"True. Not yet, _Alayne_." With the emphasis on her name, two of his long fingers plunged inside of her and she would have cried out if it wasn't for his hot, demanding mouth pressing down on hers before he moved to her ear."And I don't believe Shirley Temples are alcoholic."

 _Pompous ass_.

She meant to say something biting but she was already starting to peak. Well, it was easy enough to do; she hadn't masturbated for so long and it had been some time since her last date. It was just better to give up to the feeling of it all and besides, she couldn't talk through an impending orgasm. Never could. It always took her out of the sensation and she knew they were close to his apartment so she passed on a retort and arched up into him, her hands clawing at the fabric stretched tight around his shoulders. Credit given when credit was due, he was good at frigging with fingers, twisting them, his thumb grazing her clit with every rapid twist. Even the uncomfortable way their bodies contorted to make the small space doable was forgotten as she came, swearing she could hear the slick slamming of his palm against her even over the loud radio blaring some old school Def Leppard. 

Instead of moaning, groaning, squeaking, or crying out (thereby giving him validation), she turned her head away and purposely swallowed any sounds of pleasure, even as the climax shuddered through her. It felt amazing to cum on his fingers but she would not grant him the satisfaction of knowing it. Still, if he was worth his salt as a man he could tell she had one by the way she pulsed around his fingers. Most men could be fooled, though, because they didn't care enough to pay attention. Harry was no doubt another one of them.

The last of her contractions ebbed away and she turned to look at him. He slowly withdrew his fingers, not bothering to move her panties back into place or pull her skirt back down so she did it herself with trembling hands. His face was masked but his mouth twisted into a wry smile as he sat back into his seat and sighed loudly, looking out the window. It was odd and not what she expected and she hurriedly adjusted her clothing, trying to ignore her still labored breathing as she righted herself, smoothing down her hair and messing with her seat belt. She could still feel his fingers inside of her.

"We're here." 

Sansa peered out of the window as the taxi slowed down and pulled over to the side in front of a swanky high-rise, the best the town had to offer. For a moment self-doubt appeared as she sat immobile while the driver announced the fee amount and adjusted his mirror back to its correct place. Harry whipped out his wallet and pressed two Franklins at him with a brusque thank you and a request for privacy. The man smiled and tipped his ball cap, no doubt happy with his extra tip.

Harry flung the door open and looked over at her, his hand outstretched and she took it, her other finding her forgotten purse that somehow had been tossed to the floor. Even though he fingered her in the back of a cab, he still guided her out in a gentlemanly manner, shutting the door after her. It was a warm hand with two sticky fingers that held hers as he led her inside, greeting the door man on their way in and into the elevator.

Sansa half expected him to try something in the elevator but instead he slumped up against the wall and stared at her, his hands in his pockets. His hair was a little messy and his shirt untucked, lips kissed-swollen, his eyes boring into her.

"You sure?" It was clipped in his accent, sharp and to the point.

Sansa Stark would say no. She would say it was too early and he was a cad and a womanizer and she was too good of a girl to have a one-nighter with him and he was beneath her. She would show him her cold exterior and they would slip into their usual cat-and-mouse banter where he would make innuendos and she would rebuff him at every turn. Harrry Hardyng wouldn't beg for it but he loved the chase and maybe deep down he knew she secretly wondered how he was in bed. She was certain that he loved the challenge and something in her wondered if he loved the torture she gave to him as well. 

Alayne says yes in a strong, unwavering voice.

Her hammering heart betrays her but it doesn't matter when the soft ding announces his floor and he leads her out and down the hall to 224. He fishes out his keys and seems to mess around with them awkwardly before unlocking and guiding her in, turning on the lights and disarming the alarm. The door clicks with a finality that isn't lost on her and she hears him lock it. Her eyes take in the open floor plan and modern decor aside from the overstuffed dark brown couch facing the fireplace and massive wall-mounted TV. 

She takes an awkward step forward but before she can ask where to place her purse he has her backed against the wall by the door and he's kissing her, his hands once again on her face, her cheeks. She can smell her scent faintly from his fingers but his kisses are so intoxicating she doesn't really mind. He's tall, leaning into her, his hips pressing against her body and she feels him. Not just his belt buckle but his hardness grinding into her and somehow it feels like she's empowered but weak at the same time. At some point she drops her purse and just lets herself enjoy the moment and her hands have a mind of her own as she pulls his shirt up.

In a whisper his t-shirt is discarded and she allows the same for her flimsy top and leans forward into him as his fingers skillfully unhook her strapless bra. He pushes her back and she closes her eyes, hands winding into his hair. It feels coarse and silky all at once but the wetness and suction on her nipples make her whimper, but only a little. She tries so hard to be quiet while his hands skim her shoulders, her collarbone, cupping her breasts before traveling down to her skirt.

Harry falls to his knees and her eyes pop open to find bright blue eyes staring up at her. An impish look crosses his face but his hands are serious when they snake in the back to unzip her cute little white skirt she bought on sale at Shae's Boutique and tugs it to the polished hardwood floor. Reality hits her when her pathetic excuse of panties join her expensive skirt. Pretty items rendered useless and not appreciated by the man seemingly subservient before her, but then again something else is catching his gorgeous eyes. Suddenly she feels exposed and wishes he hadn't turned the lights on. Yet Alayne wants her pleasure even if she is taken aback that Harry Hardyng is actually for once going to do something that isn't selfish. 

_Maybe he was playing at being someone else, too_.

So she steps out of her pooled mess of clothes and shoes and lets him spread her legs farther apart so he can bury his face into her. It almost makes her buckle but strong hands have a solid grip on her thighs and his tongue works her slow and sure. She's glad for the wax. Having her red pubic hair and her head dark brown would look ridiculous and all she would be able to think about what how uncoordinated it was, it would look silly, really, wouldn't it? Well -

"Ah." She allows him that one tiny victory and he rewards her by sucking on her clit. She's sopping and slippery and the sounds of his smacking and her squishing are obscene but her hands press his head into her folds. Proud, arrogant Harry eating her out is the greatest aphrodisiac she's ever experienced. Would it be too mean to resist cumming as long as she could so he would have to be down there longer? Or would he grow tired and quit and rob her of a climax? His lips and tongue slide too easily, drenched and it feels like a river flowing down there. She decides it's better to give in and get hers before it's too late so she lets go. The clincher is when he sides his two fingers up inside her again. It felt just as perfect as it did in the car. Only now with his tongue added, nibbling and sucking her clit, it was downright unbearable.

She's never been able to cum standing up before but she does now.

Harry is staring up at her the whole damn time as she spasms, biting her lip and throwing her head back, hitting the wall with a dull thud while the wave rolls over her. His fingers reach up as far as he can and her walls can feel the ridges of his knuckles before he pulls out to clamp his open mouth down and -

 _Oh dear God, he's sucking out her cum_. She struggles to not cry out and he leaves her to stand. The air on her saliva-soaked pussy makes her shiver in a not entirely unpleasant way.

"Goddamn it, Sa -"

"Alayne. Please." It's the only time she will beg.

"Goddamn it, _Alayne_ !" His mouth turns down at the corners. His pretty, full-lipped mouth glistening with her juices. He's breathing heavy and she notices the slight show of chest hair while his chest heaves but his mouth is what captures her attention the most. She feels almost boneless after the second orgasm. She's shocked when he kisses her fiercely and he's completely saturated with her secretions, sticky and strange. He probably is getting a thrill out of her being forced to taste herself and she means to push him away, but he hoists her up and she wraps her long legs around him instead. His hands on her ass creates another sensation she doesn't mind so much and he races in what she assumes is in the direction of his bedroom. So soon after her orgasm she feels excitement again, a rush to her head that almost renders her dizzy and she flings her arms around his neck and holds on for dear life. 

Harry rounds a corner but instead of carrying her into the room as she expects, he turns to slam her against the wall, propping her up with his hips and she hears him fumbling with his belt buckle and zipper. She has time to tell him no but she doesn't. She has time to demand he wear a condom but she doesn't. Sansa would have been screaming in her head about STD's because the pill doesn't prevent those and rumor has it that Harry Hardyng gets around. 

Alayne wants to feel him. All of him. She squirms around his waist to help.

She's never seen his cock but she's felt it through his jeans and he does not disappoint when he impales her onto him. Now she _does_ moan shamelessly, like a whore, like Harry's whore and she's sure he has many of those. Instead of being angry at herself she finds she doesn't care, and Harry seemed to like her response as he slams into her, fucking her up against the wall in short, brutal stokes. He has a rhythm, sure and timed and harsh. Hell, he could split her open and she wouldn't care. Each thrust brings a new cry or gasp from her lips and her nails dig into his shoulders while he leans in to bite at her throat. The buckle of his belt is scraping into her ass and the friction of his jeans pushes up against her perineum every time he pounds into her but it's the most delicious thing she's felt and she wonders if she can cum like this. 

"Do you like that?" He rasps against her throat, jagged and panting. "Do you like me fucking you?"

She won't answer that.

He just fucks her faster and she cries out more. She's going to be sore tomorrow.

Harry grunts and bites down into her neck and she gives him deep cuts from her nails. She can feel the blood starting to ooze but he doesn't react. Instead he stops his thrusts and pulls her away from the wall and carries her into the bedroom and with some amazing skill tumbles them both onto the bed, her legs still securely wrapped around his waist and holding him in. For a moment he's on top of her, slamming into her while kissing her everywhere and all she can do is cling and whimper like some simpering little fool. 

"Wait. Wait -" He slips out of her and off to the side of the bed and she sighs in disappointment but watches as he shrugs out of his jeans, black boxers, and socks and shoes. Seeing him in all of his naked glory leaves her impressed. He is handsome from head to toe. Perspiration along his forehead shines in the light from the hallway. It's dark in the room but not dark enough to hide either of them and she can see everything. His cock jutting proudly from darker hair seemed to demand attention as he climbed back into bed to kneel in between her legs.

"I'm not sucking it," she informs him. 

He grins, his hands on his hips.

"I didn't ask." He's down on her, seeking her lips, his body flush against hers and he feels...good. Sexy. Her feet slide up the sides of his legs, her toes skimming the hair. "Besides, my dick likes the feel of your cunt."

He flipped her over to her right side and before she quite knew what was happening he was behind her, sliding his cock into her. 

"Oh my _god_." She breathed it out, not meaning to, but he felt even bigger than before and in the hallway she felt like breaking.

"Why, thank you," he whispered in her ear, a half laugh rasping out as if it were forced. She would hate herself later for her outburst but for now she let it go because the feel of him was too damn amazing to think straight or hold grudges.

This time he was slow; so painfully slow with his thrusts. Almost gentle, caring, leaning into her body, his hips creating a new kind of rhythm while his right hand clasped hers and his left arm snaked over her hip. His hand squirmed in between her and the mattress and found her clit yet again. Sansa couldn't resist reaching back to grasp his thigh to encourage him to push in closer. The feel of his tight, muscled arm over her, his hand holding hers to steady her, his body flush against her, his cheek pressed against her head and his lips on her neck...how could she have resisted for so long? All those wasted months of teasing and putting him through hell for the sake of pride.

Pride was nothing compared to this.

"I want you to cum around my cock." Harry bit into her neck lightly before flicking his tongue around her earlobe, his fingers not missing a beat between her legs. "I want you to cum with my name on your lips. I want to hear it."

"As you wish, Harrold." It came out without spite and felt hollow. He pressed harder into her at that, biting her ear and almost growling.

"I've got my cock buried deep in your cunt and you're so fucking wet that you're dripping on my sheets. I've eaten your pussy and fingered you and I made you cum both times. I want to hear _my name_ from your pretty pink lips. I can last all night, sweetheart." He relented a little. "Just let it go. Just let go."

His voice was thick with passion, lust, and determination; it tipped her over the edge as she gave in. His cock, his fingers, his whole body overwhelmed her completely and she felt it, her peak, it was coming, building rising and she opened her mouth: was it to scream, moan, cry? She wasn't sure as her breath came out in short spurts, her heart racing even as he was stroking her insanely slow but she was past the point of being teased as she came and came hard.

"Harry!" Her cry strangled into a broken moan as everything flashed and melded into her climax. "Harry, _Harry_... ah -" She felt him groan against her neck as if letting out a sound of relief and his pace quickened as she pushed back into him to ride out her orgasm. A bite into her neck and he stilled against her and she felt his own climax throbbing inside of her, warm and hot. 

"Sansa." His hand held her hip to him as his head pressed into hers. "Sansa."

She doesn't cringe. It sounds like a vocal orgasm into her ear.

Both of them come down from their high and Sansa feels exhausted. Something like regret starts to creep up inside of her but she doesn't pull away. She can't, not really, as Harry wraps his arm around her and holds her close, burying his nose into her hair, staying inside of her. She feels some leaking down her inner thighs but she's tired, drained, too sore too move. A warm hand gently moves over to caress one of her breasts and for a moment she lets herself relax. It feels good and she won't make excuses about why it shouldn't.

Sansa waits until she can hear Harry breathing heavily. It's easy to slip away from him even if she does leak all over the bed. She'd use his bathroom but it would make too much noise to flush so she tolerates the dripping from her cunt when she scampers out of his bedroom without looking back. It takes a moment to locate her belongings by the door and redress herself but she does it as quickly as possible before she heads out the door to complete her walk of shame to the elevator. It's easy to call a cab on her cell and by the time she reaches the lobby of the apartment complex she can see one already pulling up. 

She didn't even have to wait. It must be her lucky night.

The doorman tips his hat and smiles, bidding her a goodnight. Perhaps he sees her as Harry's latest floozy in a long line of floozies and maybe she is but she merely smiles and tells him good night in return before slipping in her cab. Shutting the door closes Alayne out and Sansa is back in, chewing her lip and starting to freak out over what just happened. What was she thinking? She would have to see Harry in the office on Monday and who knows if he'd start yapping to others about what a fast piece she was. Not that anyone would believe him. Not one person would take Harry The Arse's word over sweet, honest, responsible Sansa Stark, who never missed a chance to undermine Harry and treat him with disdain.

Well, at least he was all he boasted he was in bed.

As soon as she could she was dying her hair back to red.

Her cell pinged and she frowned. It was far too late for anyone to be texting her unless there was a problem. Maybe Jeyne was drunk and needed a ride. Or one of her bothers got into a fight. She whipped out her phone to read it.

 _I was hoping for a very fulfilling breakfast in bed. Next time_?

Sansa hastily deleted the message and shoved her phone back into her purse without replying. Even though her mind was racing with embarrassment and regret, she couldn't deny the warm flush spreading through her body. She had gotten the best of Harry Hardyng.

She'd make sure to address him as _Harrold_ on Monday.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Find me on tumblr: sohereweare1


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